Chapter 7
Sadie
Iregret my choice to meet Lucan before I’ve even left campus.
Clara and Juliette are attending department events tonight, leaving me without roommates to talk me out of my bad decisions.
When I stepped from my dorm ten minutes ago, I was filled with determination.
My plan is to lie to Lucan, saying I know more about Parker’s murder than I told the police. To keep me quiet, he would have to confess whether he sent me the locket.
But once I reach the iron gates of Darkbloom, I feel in over my head already.
What good can come of trying to outplay an unhinged billionaire?
I should be at the library, studying. Writing.
If Lucan killed his cousin, he’d have no problem killing me too. I’m playing such a dangerous game.
Professor Worthington did say he wanted more from my stories though. I won’t get raw, new material by spending another night avoiding the world.
I came to this college to do something. Be something.
I just hope the thing I end up being isn’t dead.
A path winds alongside the narrow road to Ember Falls, the closest town to Darkbloom.
Dusk drapes the trees in indigo light. Nocturnal creatures scurry through leaves, scattering the earthy scent of decaying foliage. Owls hoot like wise oracles warning me.
I hear the hum of the expensive car before I see it.
The black sedan glides around the bend from behind me, headlights washing the pavement in pale gold.
Slowing my pace, I wait for the vehicle to pass. It remains at the edge of my vision, like it’s tracking me.
“Shit,” I say under my breath.
Do I go back to campus?
Or is it better to run into the forest, away from the road? That idea ties my stomach in knots after what happened to Parker.
Gathering my courage, I stand still and face the car. If it stops too, I know the driver is tracking me.
The tinted windows look like polished obsidian slabs. I can’t see a thing inside.
Pulling to the curb, the sedan halts. The engine idles with faint vibrations.
They’re definitely after me then. I should run.
Yet powerful curiosity keeps me rooted to the spot.
The driver’s door opens with a quiet click and a large man wearing a suit steps out. He’s middle-aged, bald-headed, and his friendly grin disarms me.
“Are you lost?” I ask in a loud, clear voice to hide my fear.
“I know my way around, Miss, but thank you.” He remains by the open door. “I’ve been sent for you.”
My forehead wrinkles. “Sent for me?”
“I’m O’Connor. Mr. Hale’s personal driver. He directed me to bring you to Ember Falls.” He points his thumb. “I was waiting at Darkbloom. When I didn’t see you, I thought I’d better make sure you’re alright.”
I’m caught between my annoyance at Lucan and wanting to be gracious to O’Connor, who seems kind. Working for Lucan must be a nightmare.
“That’s thoughtful of you,” I say. “Thank you. But I’m fine on foot. You can tell him that.”
He nods. “As you wish.”
Returning to the driver’s seat, he pulls the car away from the curb.
But as I continue walking, I realize the sedan’s still pacing me. The engine patiently hums at my back.
I groan into the chilly air.
Did Lucan order this poor man to babysit me all the way to Ember Falls?
Though I try to wave O’Connor past, he stays with me. He glides around bends alongside me until glittering, picture-perfect Ember Falls comes into view.
Using my phone, I navigate the cobblestoned streets to Altar. The sleek car trails me until I enter the well-lit town square, where O’Connor finally drives away.
It’s hard to imagine anything criminal happening in an exclusive college town like this.
Carefree students roam in groups. Adults in designer suits meet for drinks after work at open-air restaurants. The town whispers with old money, evident in the gas-style street lamps and ivy-covered heritage buildings.
When I reach Altar on a quiet side street, at first I think I’ve made a mistake. Expecting a grand establishment, I’m confused to find only heavy wood doors and a plain building.
Then I look closer. A discreet brass plaque next to the door bears the word Altar in an elegant font.
Chewing my lip, I consider leaving.
I imagined Altar as a loud, thriving bar, like the ones I passed. Swanky, yes, but public.
What stands before me is a den. A secret.
This was a huge mistake. I want to return to my dorm and stay there, possibly forever.
Before I can go, the door opens and a stern-looking man wearing a suit and earpiece steps out. His clinical eyes sweep over me.
“May I help you?” he asks in clipped tones, like I just said something silly.
My voice wavers. “Uh, I’m Sadie Marlowe. I’m supposed to be meeting—”
Before I finish, he holds the door wider and waves me inside.
I release a long breath, deciding.
Fine, why not? I’m already here. What’s the worst that can happen?
The bouncer closes the door behind us, sealing me in.
I feel like I’ve entered another century. The bar’s dark paneling, leather armchairs, and amber lighting seem to belong to their own universe. An expensive universe I was never meant to see.
Quiet jazz mingles with low conversations.
“Welcome to Altar,” says the man. “Mr. Hale will meet you in a private parlor. Follow me, if you please.”
He bows to a club member who walks by without acknowledging us.
The member wears a top hat and a coat with tails, making me feel drastically underdressed in my skirt and sweater.
The bouncer leads me to the dead end of a hallway. In silence, he points to a sign on the wall.
Phones must remain pocketed.
“Okay,” I say.
My nerves jangle like bells. I must be truly deranged for coming here willingly. I feel like a lamb to slaughter.
This place reeks of a certain type of rich man. The ones who’ve never been refused anything in their lives. Who grow bored of normal pleasures. Who pluck their thrills from the dark like rotten cherries.
It reeks of Lucan.
The bouncer opens the parlor door, his steely gaze commanding me to enter.
“There’s no torture chamber in here, right?” I ask with a weak smile.
He acts like I said nothing.
The name of the bar takes on new meaning in my panicked imagination.
Altars are for worship, but also sacrifice.
My stomach twists tighter.
“Should I inform Mr. Hale that you declined the invitation?” he asks.
“No.” My voice is surprisingly firm.
The thought of Lucan sneering at my cowardice is too much.
Screw him, I’m going inside.
I want answers.
Shoring up my courage, I step into the parlor. The bouncer closes me in at once.
The muted room is full of shadows. The scent of top-shelf liquor and cigar smoke tinges the air. Privacy curtains hang between alcoves of tables with seats.
The walls of the alcoves are mirrored, which is unnerving. It reminds me of a carnival funhouse, except I’m not having fun.
My eyes land on my host.
Lucan is a silhouette against the back wall. His large body relaxes on a seat in an alcove like he’s at home. He swirls a glass of amber liquid slowly while examining me from across the room. His gaze glances off my skin, cold and searing all at once.
My face stares at me from the mirror over his head. Though I’m nervous as hell, the look I’m giving him is a mix of scorn and boredom. It boosts my confidence enough to walk over to him.
With every step, his eyes bore into me like he’s been anticipating this very moment.
He rises when I reach him. “Sadie. Good to see you.”
“Lucan. Wish I could say the same.”
“You declined the car.”
“Very perceptive,” I say.
He sits, gesturing next to him. “Come. Have a whiskey.”
The leather-bound cushioned seat sighs under my body weight. Keeping a wary distance, I put my bag behind me. I want my phone close, in case I need to call for help.
Lucan pours a second whiskey from the crystal decanter on the table before us. I feel like I’m in a very upscale, very empty nightclub. He hands me the glass, clinking his against mine.
“To corrupting the good girl,” he says.
I snort softly. “Is that what you think you’re doing?”
The corners of his mouth lift in a cruel smile. “I think this is the first night in months you haven’t spent alone with your notebook and novels.”
“That isn’t true.”
“Wasn’t a question.” Lucan drinks. “It was an observation.”
I suppress a shudder. The timbre of his voice connects with my skin almost as if he’s touching me.
“Been observing me a lot, have you?” I ask. “Been sending me things?”
His eyes flare dramatically, mocking me. “Someone’s been sending you things? How exciting.”
“Creepy,” I correct. “It’s creepy as fuck and so are you.”
“Maybe it’s courtship.”
The shudder I’ve been suppressing comes out, racking my body. “Yeah, okay. Freak.”
Bringing the whiskey glass to my mouth, I pause.
What if he’s drugging me? No one at Altar would dare step in. The bouncers clearly exist to serve members, not guests.
Noticing my hesitation, Lucan swaps our glasses. He takes a theatrical swig of mine and swallows.
“I don’t need to drug you to make you mine,” he says.
With a rough tug, I take my glass back. “But otherwise you would?”
I gulp the whiskey, the burning liquid a welcome distraction.
Lucan pushes the sleeves of his charcoal sweater to his elbows. The threads of his forearm muscles shift as he turns his tumbler in his hand.
“You speak about me with such confidence,” he says quietly. “Like you know me.”
The contemplation in his voice makes me more uncomfortable than when he sneers.
“What’s to know?” I retort.
But my attempt at snark falls flat. His moment of apparent sincerity took the sting out of it.
Is he trying to manipulate me? Make me drop my defenses?
I get no answers though. He just continues staring at me as if he’s reading my soul and darkest thoughts.
How does he do that?
Fortified by the alcohol, I hold his intense gaze.
“What do you want?” I ask. “Why did you ask me here?”
“You need my help,” he says simply.
“With what? Learning how to be a gigantic ass? Because I can’t see what else you might be good for.”
His eyes twinkle and his lips flatten briefly, like he’s trying not to laugh. “Is that so?”
“It is.” I pause. “Help with what?” I repeat.
“You’re in danger of a broken neck.”
An icy chill steals over me, killing the whiskey’s fire. “From who? You?”
My roommates are right about him. He’s heartless. Hazardous.
Zahra warned me in class too. Why didn’t I listen to any of them?
Lucan’s features harden like stone. “You think I murdered my cousin?”
“Everyone does,” I say with confidence.
“I’m not talking to everyone, Sadie. I’m talking to you.” His energy crackles in the air, like the moment before lightning strikes. “Do you think I killed my own blood?”
My confidence falters at the passion in his eyes. He seems genuinely anguished.
Breaking my gaze from his, uncertainty and guilt swim through me.
Am I the one being a gigantic ass?
His family member died and I don’t actually have proof he’s done anything wrong—not to his cousin and not to me.
All I have are rumors and the chills that shoot down my vertebrae when I’m near him.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I suppose I should’ve asked you.”
“So do it,” he says.
“Ask you?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” Taking a deep breath, I lick my lips. “Lucan, did you kill Parker?”